


In the Shadows

by Umeko



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Creepy, Dead Marshes, F/M, Songs of Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko/pseuds/Umeko
Summary: Elrond and his children are creepy and the truth behind the Dead Marshes.





	1. A Fearsome Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Drag0nst0rm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Softly Sing the Children](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838468) by [Drag0nst0rm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm). 



> This is inspired by Drag0nst0rm’s fic. AU definitely. This plot bunny has been batting around for a while, so here it is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindir feels suffocated by his lord's regard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maglor does not end up wandering the shore but wishes he did.

There was a jewel once, the minstrel recalled. It was gone. Elros took it with him and it now slept in the depths of the sea. They tossed a coin for him and Elrond won. It also helped that Elros had made his Choice by then and found his powers much diminished. He recalled he was one of seven all gone save he. He could not bring their faces to mind, no matter how hard he tried. Lord Elrond’s twins reminded him of Elrond and Elros. So that was one link in his hazy memories. It was hard to concentrate and remember when Elrond sang.

“Ada, don’t fight… Let it go,” his son’s voice coaxed and he would surrender. It hurt less that way. Lindir need not suffer as Maglor did. In Imladris he is Lindir and this is his only home. He must remember that.

There were times when he saw a familiar face in the street but he could never be sure. Or someone he once knew might want to call out to him, using his true name. Elrond was always there with him to forestall them. A soft humming and all would be forgotten. The smith returned to his work, the king to his court, and the fair lady to her lord’s side. He never caught their names, hovering just outside his awareness. Both king and smith were long gone to Mandos. The lord and lady do visit Imladris, but they never speak with him. Nor he with them. Elrond’s tantrums could be fearful.

Elrond was no longer an elfling to be cossetted by his Adar. That was something to be indulged in private. The lord of Imladris would shrug aside his mantle of authority and act the child, but he knew better who was in control even as Elrond cuddled against him and demanded a song from his dearest Ada. Elrond had married for duty rather than love, which was fortunate. Had Celebrian known the full weight of his love, perhaps she might find the orcs a kindness.

Perhaps Mithrandir knew something, Glorfindel too. Perhaps they saw it as a kindness – this stifling, suffocating love that negated the Oath. The Istar was unreachable, as distant as Gil-Estel above. The Balrog-slayer loathed him.

Perhaps the children knew of Maglor but they held their tongues. Lindir’s role was to sing for his lord’s household. That was enough for them. Perhaps Elrond had warned them. It was not uncommon for the Lord and his children to spend hours in silent contemplation or softly singing.

The children all took after their adar. Elrond was well-aware of his own nature by now and those of his offspring. He taught them to hide their Maia blood and the power that flowed in it, to act as one of the Children. For a time, Lindir watched in silence as the twins toyed with their mentor Glorfindel. However, they soon grew tired of their golden-haired Balrog-slayer. Perhaps the bloodline was weaker in them for had they loved with the same selfish intensity as their sire, Glorfindel would surely be crushed.

As they grew into their majority, it became clear the twins were besotted with each other. _Just as well,_ Maglor thought wryly from behind Lindir’s eyes. Lady Arwen was another matter. The Adan never had a chance. Lindir discreetly hid away during the fierce argument that ensued between Elrond and his daughter. As much as he wanted to, Elrond could not change that melody. He did demand that Aragorn be crowned king of both Gondor and Arnor before he would consider giving his daughter to him.

* * *

 

“She’ll leave me, like Gil-galad, Celebrian, Elros, Nana…” Maglor wanted to comfort his foster son as tears soaked the front of his shirt.

“Don’t dare you leave me, Ada!”

The fearsome song was back, overwhelming in its raw intensity. Elrond has learnt to sing such that the others of the household do not hear it. It pummelled the bard like a physical force, crushing him into the carpet beneath as his legs failed. Elrond’s hand grasped at his collar as they fell, choking him, until the linen gave. Lindir vaguely registered that the door to Elrond’s study was wide open but no one came to question why their master was weeping into their minstrel’s chest.

Elrond has seen the design in the Music with regards to his Arwen. Maglor had to bear the force of his tantrum as the song battered at his mind, his very being, until merciful unconsciousness came.

Lindir might awake later in his lord’s bed, sore and battered all over. Elrond could be so kind and gentle afterwards. He always stopped short of crushing his precious Adar entirely. Warm and safe in Elrond’s embrace and song, Lindir would wonder why he had ever thought of leaving the Last Homely House and his Lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is working on the premise that Maglor and Lindir are one and the same.
> 
> Next chapter, the Dead Marshes.


	2. Come and Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth behind the Dead Marshes and the Mere of Dead Faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if Elured and Elurin survived the First Age in a sense, went dark side, and eluded the notice of the Istari?

Nana and Ada were long gone. There was a dark forest long sunk beneath the waves. The twin spirits did not know how it came to be but they knew they had left their names behind with their empty hroar under that oak tree. The spiders in the forest did not touch them as they drifted in the shadows. There was a sister once, but they loathed to leave their now familiar forest to seek her out in the West after she flew away.

They hid as the War of Wrath raged and Beleriand sank beneath the waves, moving eastwards across the mountains where huge forests still stood. Time had little meaning for them. Sometimes they would observe travellers. Those watched would feel a chill and edge closer to the campfire, be they elf, man, or dwarf. They kept to themselves.

There was Another in the East, growing in strength. This they ignored. Its song was discordant and they liked it not one bit. They hated it more for raising its Black Fortress. _So ugly!_

Sometime at the end of the Second Age, something happened. The world shifted. Then another war. Great armies clashed. This time they were braver and watched the fighting unseen. They saw mighty armies and bright banners. They watched as the souls of the dead and dying fled for their respective rests.

Suddenly they wanted more than each other’s company. _Can we keep them?_

They sang a net into being, and snared the souls they desired, drawing strength as they did so. The Other took up residence nearby, a mere shadow now of its former power. The twin part-Maiar did not shy from siphoning off part of its remaining power, just enough to keep their prizes locked in the mere.

The marsh was now their home, and that of their companions. Some had fallen during the great battles. Others were lured to their deaths in the marsh by the lights. The twins thought the lights were pretty. It was amusing to lead unwary travellers on a merry chase until they drowned in the bog, turning into one of the pretty lights themselves. The mortals called the place the Dead Marshes and it grew with each passing year and battle.

* * *

 

Two travellers, no, three, picking their way through the marshes. Elves. Such a sight was rare in those parts after the last battle.

There had been another great battle recently, so many more souls added to their mere. It was almost a pity when the Other in Mordor was defeated. _No more battles!_ The twins did not waste any time chasing down that shadow and draining its power entirely. After all, they needed to keep their pretty lights going. _Nana always said not to waste._

Three elves would make a fine addition. The blond one went ahead of his companions.

They sent a light from the mere, the soul of a child. The elf turned at the sound of the baby’s cry. It was enough for him to stumble on a root. The mud sucks at him, drawing him down. Ankle, knee, then waist-deep… _He is ours!_

One of his companions rushed to his aid. The other scanned the surroundings for danger. _Twins, just like us. What a pretty addition they will make!_

Something was amiss. Instead looking through them, the dark-haired elf looked right at them, as if stripping them of their invisibility. He started to sing, a soft Song of Power not unlike theirs. Having saved their friend from the mere, his twin joined in.

 _The net! It weakens!_ Lights were rising from the mere. Souls of trapped elves, orcs, dwarves, and men fleeing for their respective rests. _They are of our blood…_  The realization dawned too late.

The first twin had changed his song. _Sleep, rest, the peace and warmth of a parent’s embrace…_ The last of the lights fled, save two that curled into each other like two indistinct tadpoles, sinking back into the mere.

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged glances as Elladan threw his cloak over a sodden Legolas. It was almost fortunate that their granduncles had perished as children and still retained the minds of such. It was unfortunate they had somehow slipped over that thin line into the realm of shadow.

“We should tell Ada…” Elrohir whispered. He did not know how long his Song would hold.

“A-and Mithrandir too…” Legolas forced out through chattering teeth. He knew something dark had reached for him and almost claimed him in the icy mere. He barely noticed as Elladan sang the warmth back into his frozen limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose if Mithrandir knew of their antics, he might have made a little detour to lay them to rest.


End file.
